Torn In Two
by IAmPhoenix
Summary: Which do you trust your heart or your head? Your heart will lead you where you want to be, but your head will lead you where you ought to be. But which will lead you where you're meant to be? Follow the story of Obsidian as she tries to figure out exactly where she's meant to be without tearing a family apart. This story is full of drama, not cotton candy fluffiness.


**A/N: **This story takes place during the events of Breaking Dawn. I do not own Twilight or any of the characters. I do however own all OCs which at this point are my main characters Obsidian, Caige and minor characters (Mr. Antoine, Jillien, Petunia and Belinda). Read, review, favorite and follow. **Shameless Plug** (#sorrynotsorry): My sister, my best friend, the peas to my carrots, the rice to my beans, the pain in my ass, AstringentSacchrine, writes some of the most amazing stories ever. You should definitely check out her stories especially If You're Not The One and the new companion piece You Don't Know Me. I promise you will be blown away.

_**Chapter One**_

The night stilled.

The dogs fell silent.

The incessant chirping of the crickets ceased.

Even the wind dared not speak.

A familiar sickly sweet aroma wafted across Bourbon Street, masking the odors of sweat, liquor and Cajun cuisine. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up. A single bead of sweat rolled from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, sending a chill down her spine. She didn't have to raise her head to search for him. She knew exactly where he was. Night after night he returned to the same spot, silencing all that surrounded him.

Watching.

Waiting.

Preying.

Slowly she turned her head to meet his gaze. There he stood, hidden yet so visible. His head cocked slightly to the side, his beautiful face twisted into a mask of curiousness and confusion, he returned her glare. A sinister yet sweet smile spread across his chiseled face. Her palms began to sweat and her heartbeat quickened. She swallowed.

The world around them stopped.

For a moment nothing and no one else existed...

"Hello!" A voice bellowed, snapping Obsidian from her trance.

"Huh?" Obsidian asked regretfully tearing her eyes from the alley and the beautiful stranger.

The pudgy woman with the tightly curled hair that had turned into a ball of burnt orange frizz probably as soon as she'd stepped from her hotel room fidgeted in her seat. "Can you hear him? Do you hear my husband?" She huffed.

Obsidian glanced back at the alley but he was gone. And in his absence the sounds of the night returned. She let out a sigh. Maybe tomorrow.

"Some psychic you are." The woman snapped. "I'd like a refund."

Obsidian tapped a long, pointed black fingernail against the sign hanging from the side of the worn folding table. "I'm not a psychic and I don't give refunds madame."

Her words were slow and drawn out. A nearly perfect Southern accent only tainted by the faint remnants of the French accent she'd acquired from spending the first ten years of her life living in Nice, France with her parents. Her accent led people to believe she'd spent her entire life deep in the bayous of Louisiana when in fact she'd only been in New Orleans for eight years.

"Well you've been staring off into space for the past five minutes. Either give me a message from my husband or I'll get that nice looking police officer over there to convince you to give me a refund."

"Petunia why don't we just go?" Her skinny friend suggested. "Everyone on Bourbon Street has a con. She can't give you a message from Harold. She's nothing but a fraud."

Obsidian laughed. "Cher, I'm just about the only thing on Bourbon Street that ain't a con. Me and Madame Genevieve down in the gris gris shop. But I can't give what I can't get."

"And what does that mean?"

"It mean Harold don't wanna talk to you."

Pudgy Petunia placed her hand over her heart. "We were married for thirty one years. How could he not want to talk to me?" Her beady hazel eyes filled with tears.

Obsidian shrugged her shoulders. Tears didn't phase her. She'd shed millions over the past few years and witnessed her customers shed a million more. "Simple. He don't wanna talk to you. But," she turned in her seat and faced Petunia's skinny friend, "he's got a nice little message for Belinda."

Belinda looked like a fox caught in the henhouse. She looked from Obsidian to Petunia, unsure of what to do next. "A message for me? Harold and I didn't even really get along. Why would he have a message for me?"

"We both know the answer to that don't we...sweet cheeks?" Obsidian smirked.

Belinda paled as she ran a bony hand through her sweat matted platinum blonde hair. "I-I-I don't want to hear this. She's obviously playing us for fools Petunia. Let's go. I'll give you back the fifty dollars you paid this little con artist since it was my idea to come to New Orleans." She snapped her head in Obsidian's direction and pointed a long bony finger at her. "And you, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for taking advantage of a grieving widow like this."

"And you ought to be ashamed of yourself for taking advantage of your best friend's husband while she was in Virginia taking care of her sick sister."

Belinda attempted to interrupt her but Obsidian held up her hand, silencing the wafer thin woman instantly. She then turned her attention back to Petunia. "By the way, Margaret says she misses you dearly and thank you for all that you did for her in her final days even though she wasn't always the best sister to you. She says ma and pappy are there with her and so is cousin Jo."

"Belinda!" Petunia snapped. She stood so quickly from the folding chair that it fell to the ground and slid two feet down the sidewalk. "You slept with my husband? You were supposed to be my best friend. How could you?" Tears filled her eyes as she stared at her best friend of fifty years, waiting on an answer.

"It was only once..." Belinda attempted to explain.

"Once a week for six years." Obsidian corrected. She picked at her nails, occasionally glancing back at the alley to see if the mystery man had returned. Of course he hadn't. He never returned more than once a night, but that didn't mean she'd give up hope.

Belinda shot Obsidian a glare that could've killed a thousand men. "No one asked you." She gently touched Petunia's arm. "Pet, sweetie, we've been friends since grade school. Can we talk about this?"

Petunia snatched away from her friend. "There's nothing to talk about Belinda. You screwed my husband!" She screamed. Several people turned to stare, causing Petunia's face to turn beet red. She reached into her purse and fumbled around for a bit before slipping the thin strap over her shoulder. "Thank you for all of your help dear." She smiled weakly at Obsidian. She gently gripped Obsidian's hand and placed a folded bill inside before quickly walking down Bourbon street with Belinda hot on her heels.

Obsidian watched their animated argument until they disappeared into the crowd. She shook her head, not understanding how someone could betray their best friend like that. She shrugged her shoulders. She didn't have friends so that would never be an issue for her.

Her focus returned to the alley. After twenty minutes of him not showing up, she blew out the candles and grabbed her black leather messenger bag from under the table. She carefully picked up the colored crystals from the table, one by one, gently wrapping them in pieces of black flannel then placed them into the bag. Obsidian extinguished the six pillar candles on the table then placed them in the bag alongside the crystals. Lastly, she folded the rickety card table, leaning it against the brick building to her left.

"I'll get that for you later." A deep voice boomed from above her.

She looked up and waved at the man hanging from the third floor window. "Merci Monsieur Antoine. À bientôt."

"Au revoir ma petite bijou."

Antoine Beaulieu owned the souvenir shop that occupied the first and second floors of the building Obsidian did her readings in front of. He lived with his wife and teenaged son on the third floor. He was born and raised in Paris but had migrated to New Orleans in the 1980s. He had always been nice to her despite her special gifts and oddities. Obsidian thought it was because she reminded him of his daughter, Jillien, who had disappeared on a trip to Italy in the late 1990s. They both had golden skin, almond shaped eyes and thick, waist length jet black hair. The only difference between the two was that Jillien had piercing green eyes and Obsidian's were gray with hazel flecks near the pupil and deep blue, almost black, rings around the outer edge of the iris.

Obsidian gave Antoine a final wave before slipping the strap of her messenger bag over shoulder, carefully avoiding the fresh tattoo that covered the majority of her right upper shoulder. It was the first phase of her full sleeve tattoo tribute to both her father's Native American heritage and her mother's Ethiopian heritage. She gave one final longing glance down the alley before she set off down Bourbon street towards home. Although her brother had warned against it many times, Obsidian decided to take the long way home. She would often cut through the less than savory Iberville Housing Projects to get to the St. Louis Cemetery where there mother was buried. She often tried hard to stay away from cemeteries, hospitals, morgues and anywhere else the dead tended to congregate because their voices and pleas for her to contact their loved ones could be overwhelming, but tonight, she needed to talk to her mother.

As Obsidian neared the cemetery, the pull of the spirits got stronger. She swayed slightly on her feet as she fought against them.

"Leave me alone." she mumbled as she pinched the bridge of her nose. She held her breath and counted to ten, hoping that the pressure in her head would subside. Hundreds of voices fought their way into her head, each with his or her own request. Some wanting messages delivered to loved ones while others wanted their deaths to be avenged. Obsidian just wanted to talk to the one spirit that had yet to talk back, her mother, Afomia. It had been from her mother that she inherited this gift but yet they couldn't communicate with each other. Nor could she communicate with her father. For her the gift was useless, for others it was their saving grace so instead of letting it completely go to waste, she used it to make money. Something her mother would have never approved of.

"Maman. Je t'aime." Obsidian began as her eyes filled with tears. She choked back a sob as leaned against the stone wall outside the cemetery. She couldn't bring herself to go in. "Tu me manques. Je suis perdue sans vous maman. Je suis perdue sans vous."

Obsidian slid down the stone wall, until she hit the ground. She pulled her knees to her chest and leaned her head against the wall. She opened closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A familiar scent filled her nose. Sickly sweet like vanilla and honeysuckle on a hot Lousiana day.

"Go away!" she screamed through her body wracking sobs. Her time with her mother was her's and her's alone. He had no right to intrude. "Leave me alone!"

As quickly as the scent had come, it was gone.

Obsidian stared absently at the night sky. "Maman why won't you talk to me? I'm hearing so many voices. I'm starting to see things I know I shouldn't be seeing. I can hear the thoughts of a man and I can't understand why. I feel like I'm going crazy. I need you. I need your guidance but you left me. Why would you leave me when I needed you most? Je donnerais le monde à voir votre visage. Je souhaite que je pourrais vous parler pendant un certain temps."

As Obsidian sat on the hard ground, she could feel her heart breaking all over again. Her mother had been her best friend and the only person on this earth that knew and understood exactly what she was going through. It was from her that Obsidian inherited the ability to see and speak with the dead. Obsidian pulled a small bottle of Jamaican rum from her messenger bag. She unscrewed the cap and took a swig. She coughed loudly as the pungent liquid ran a flaming course down her throat and into her stomach, warming her body from the inside out.

"Pourquoi maman?" Obsidian mumbled before taking another sip from the bottle. "Pourquoi avez-vous quittè? You were so fucking selfish. How could you just leave me? Leave us? Knowing everything that I was going through and all the fucked up shit I had to face how could you be so selfish? You didn't think that one day we would need you or that we wouldn't know how to face this fucked up world alone? How could you?"

Obsidian sat on the hard ground for nearly an hour, weeping silent tears for her mother, before she decided to head home. If she was any later than she already was, her brother would send the entire New Orleans Police Department to find her. She walked slowly and quietly for three miles until she reached the small house in the Treme neighborhood that she shared with her older brother.

"Where you been, cher?"

"Out." Obsidian replied, removing her black messenger bag from her body and hanging it on the coat rack. She removed the crystals from the bag and cradled them gently in her arms.

"Out where?" Caige asked. He took another swig of his beer and stared at his sister. She could tell that he'd already had one too many and she wasn't in the mood to argue with him.

"Out working, Caige. Where else would I be at the height of tourist season?" She leaned against the wall for support, finally starting to feel the effects of the Jamaican rum.

Caige snorted. "Maman left me in charge. Don't give me any lip."

The tears returned to Obsidian's eyes. She held them in. She never let Caige see her cry. He would think she was weak and baby her even more than he already did. "Maman didn't _leave_ you in charge. She died and you got custody of me by default. There's a big fucking difference between the two."

"Ta-may-toe, ta-mah-toe." He slurred. "I am still the boss of you. ¿Comprende?"

"¡No comprende pendejo!" Obsidian snapped as she stormed off towards her room.

"Get back here Obi!" Caige yelled.

"¡Besa mi culo!" She yelled back before slamming the door behind her.

She placed the crystals one by one on her dresser then slipped off her shorts and tank top. She turned her fan on full speed and climbed into the bed. Normally she couldn't sleep without washing the grit and grime of the day from her body but she was so emotionally spent that all she wanted was to see the inside of her eye lids.

****Translations** **

**PS: I am not fluent in French or Spanish so some of the translations may be off.**

Cher - Darling

Merci Monsieur Antoine. À bientôt. - Thank you Mr. Antoine. See you soon.

Au revoir ma petite bijou. - Goodbye my little jewel.

Maman. Je t'aime. - Mommy. I love you.

Tu me manques.- I miss you.

Je suis perdue sans vous maman. Je suis perdue sans vous. - I'm lost without you mommy. I'm lost without you.

Je donnerais le monde à voir votre visage - I would give the world to see your face.

Je souhaite que je pourrais vous parler pendant un certain temps. - I wish I could talk to you for a while.

Pourquoi maman? Pourquoi avez-vous quittè? - Why mommy? Why did you leave?

¿Comprende? - Understand?

No comprende pendejo. - I don't understand idiot.

Besa mi culo! - Kiss my ass.


End file.
